


A Story About Sock

by theatricalartist



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Featuring Mephistopheles the narrator, M/M, Suicide, sock backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatricalartist/pseuds/theatricalartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered why Sock is the way he is? Mephistopheles will tell you why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story About Sock

Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski was found dead in a shallow grave on October 13th. Discovered by a jogger at 6:30am; he had taken his own life at the tender age of 16. He had also taken his father and mother's lives, but this story isn't about them, this is a story about Napoleon; better known as Sock. 

Sock Sowachowski had always been valued by his mother, no matter the trouble he involved her in unwittingly. He didn't hate her, but he didn't love her. To him, he felt like her prize and not her child. 

To his father he was much the opposite. A bother, a danger. He often hovered around Sock or avoided him entirely. This caused much tension in their home. Sock despised him, though he'd never say it, he knew better. I could carry on, but like I said; this isn't a story about them, this is a story about Sock.

Sock was on the honor roll at his school. He had no friends, well his knife but, he really wasn't the kind of friend you'd expect a boy his age to have. Then again he wasn't a typical boy. He's stay apart from the other students at passing periods and lunches and run his thumb over his knife gently while it stayed tucked away in his pocket. He was different, he knew that much. 

Sock had a reputation at the school. Parents had told their kids to steer clear of him. Bad things happened to people that got to close to Sock, they tended to disappear. They were right of course, to separate themselves from him. He was dangerous. 

Of course that wasn't always a deterrent to those around him. There were a select few that knew. Sock didn't kill out of anger, or pure insanity. It was more of a boredom response. And they knew, being nearly twice his size, they could do whatever they wanted to him.

Broken bones and noses became common place for Sock. He wasn't okay with it, but he knew just as well as they did that he couldn't bring himself to hurt them.   
The eve of October 12th Sock walked home after one such of these occasions. His mother and father sat at a table with him. They ate dinner together like a family, they exchanged story like a family, and then they went to bed like a family. 

At 10pm that night Sock woke to find himself with both his mother and father's blood on his hands. Under most circumstances Sock knew he could get away with a crime like this, but in his sleep he quickly realized there was no way out.   
I digress. Sock was not a suicidal child. He was mildly insane, and very homicidal. The night Sock buried both his parents in shallow graves and then killed himself he did not decide to kill himself out of remorse or mourning, but rather practicality.  
And as he lay in his grave slowly bleeding out and cursing his knife for not being faster Sock had no idea in a few short, days? Weeks? Hours? Whatever. He no idea on a short period of time he would be in charge of someone who had an affinity of sandwiches and fondness for pineapple portraits. But then again, this isn't a story about them, this is a story about Sock.


End file.
